Carlo's eyes glowed.

"Well, you've just begun. I'm sure you'll find what you're seeking."

"Um, yes, well, you're right. We've only just begun. The excavations here could go on for years, and, of course, I know you haven't that kind of time, but your work is deeply appreciated. I know as well, of course, where your true vocation lies."

Something about the way Carlo spoke was disturbing, but Grant wasn't sure why. He should have understood the man's passion. He knew what it was to have a feeling for a line of work that was a dedication and desire, far more than just a job.

"I do intend to spend my time working here as well," Grant said.

Carlo nodded then, apparently pleased. "Well, I have kept you from your friends far too long. You'll forgive me for not including them—you have been a part of this, they have not. And we are scholars here, of course, determined to give our finds to the world. Every now and then, however, we have moments of selfishness and pride!"

"Of course. And thank you. I am honored to be working here," Grant assured him. "If you'll excuse me, though… I've been away some time now."

"Certainly!"

With a smile and a wave, Grant started back down the trail to where he had left Stephanie. When he reached the site, he wasn't alarmed at first when he didn't see her.

"Steph?" he called her name, but there was no answer.

He looked around, and the first unease filled him. It was growing dark.

He could see the trail up the little cliff that led to the precipice and decided she must have gone that way—though it occurred to him there were many places she might be. But he had to start somewhere.

He started up the trail. It was steep in a few places, but not dangerously so.

"Stephanie!" He called her name, waited, and heard nothing.

He quickened his pace, and was panting when he reached the top.

Stepping out, he saw that there was a spectacular view of the region. Great castles and walled cities could be seen from here, and at this distance, the ruin wasn't visible as it would be up close. From here, he might have entered a different world.

Then, as he stood there, he experienced the oddest sensation.

He'd been here before.

He'd climbed the trail…

He'd felt a terrible sense of urgency, and he'd come here, and…

The wind picked up. It whispered first, then whistled. It wasn't that strong, he tried to tell himself, and yet…

It even seemed to be screaming.

"Stephanie!" He shouted her name in growing panic.

The light was beginning to fade in earnest.

He needed to hurry, to find her. And yet…

For a minute, he couldn't force himself to move. The sense of déjà-vu was more than he could stand.

Ass, you've been working in the area! he reminded himself.

And yet…

It took the most ridiculous effort to fight the urge to stay, to turn away and start down again. Fear suddenly fueled anger.

Where the hell had she gone?

Stephanie realized that she should have been growing a bit uneasy.

She thought she had taken the trail upward—but at some point, her trek had taken her down again. She had left the area where trees and foliage surrounded the path. The terrain was growing rockier. The cliff had become rugged stone, rising almost straight to the sky.

"Liz? Clay?" she called.

Against the rock, it seemed that the wind was stronger.

She swore softly, turned around, walked what she thought was the way she had come, and encountered only more rock and cliff.

"Grant!" she shouted, and waited.

The last sun slipped out of the sky, and she was surrounded by darkness. Too bad she wasn't home, she told herself. Her key chain had an alarm, and a flashlight.

But she wasn't home. She was in the hills in Italy, and like an idiot, she had wandered off alone.

There was a moon out, providing a touch of light, but…

What if she just kept wandering, endlessly? What if she couldn't find her way back? She didn't know the area to begin with, and now, in the dark…

She wasn't going to panic, she assured herself. She wouldn't starve, and she wouldn't even die of dehydration. Even if she had to just stop and sit here, eventually, someone would come for her. Grant would never just leave her.

And even if he did, Clay and Liz were here.

That thought shamed her; Grant would never leave her.

Grant was very strange these days.

Carlo Ponti even knew that she was here! And if Grant was so strange, dangerously strange, her intuition would have warned her by now. She was still sleeping with him!

But that might be because…

There was something about him. She couldn't resist him… there was a raw sensuality there, sometimes, it was as if she couldn't refuse, as if he awakened something in her almost like a blood lust. She was desperate…

She was desperate all right! Where the hell was she?

"Don't panic!" she said aloud. Then she decided one way not to panic was to avoid talking to herself.

She would be fine, she assured herself.

All she had to do was sit and wait.

Wait…

Right.

Had Maria Britto come here? Had she been waiting for a lover when the… animals, the wild dogs, whatever… had come upon her?

"Oh, God!"

She was talking to herself aloud again.

"That's because I am going to panic!" she said.

Maria Britto… Lord! First, attacked by savage animals. Chewed, Grant had said.

And then…

Her own mother had attacked her coffin to sever her head.

"Sweet Jesu, don't think about that!" she commanded herself. If you do, in just a few minutes, you'll be tearing your hair out and jumping off a cliff like a madwoman!

Then, she saw a light. It was ahead, somewhere in the rock.

A light in the rocks?

Maybe they were there, searching for her.

Searching for her in the rocks?

Why not? Trails, darkness, light, voices… all were deceptive out here! It had to be help, people coming for her, looking for her.

The thought was steadying.

And then, once again, she thought she heard her name. A whisper, a call on the wind. They would be looking for her, of course. Maybe they had gotten ahead of her—or maybe they were behind her, she was so turned around.

Head for the light. What else was there to do?

It was the logical thing to do.

And yet…

Even as she walked, using logic, she thought it strange again. It was almost as if she was compelled to come this way.

He waited. Yes! This was it, the moment…

Stretching out, he could feel her, coming to him.

The aches, the hungers, the bitterness, the loathing, the waiting, the hatred… oh, yes, the hatred, simmering, waiting…

The time had come.

They would all be made to pay.

Even that knowledge made his sense of power increase and soar; his day had brought greater strength, but now… he felt invincible.

Immortal.

Closer…

Closer still.

She was coming.

And he would have what he wanted, the fulfillment that no other subject of hunger and lust had provided; he would have vengeance, and the taste of it was already so sweet upon his lips.

This way…

Yes. She was coming.

Great. If it hadn't already been dark and windy, there was a fog rising. Stephanie swore again at her own stupidity.

The way the wind rose, she was certain that there wasn't going to be just fog; pretty soon, she wouldn't have to worry so much about that because it was going to rain.

She stood still. It was growing very chilly. It might be beautiful and balmy down by the beach, but here, once the wind picked up, it was more than cold. It was nippy. She felt as if little trickles of ice water were suddenly slipping down the length of her spine.

She couldn't see in front of her.

And still, ahead… seeming to come from the very rocks, was that light. They were close, she was certain.

They had to be looking for her! Surely, certainly. They would know by now that she was lost. It had been a long time, though just how long, she didn't know.

The wind blew with a mighty howl.

A bolt of lightning suddenly slashed across the sky. For a moment, she could see.

Clearly.

And she stopped dead, thinking that she had lost her mind.

Grant was ahead of her, far ahead on the trail, and it seemed that he was framed by the rock.

He was naked.

Impossibly tall, shoulders gleaming and bronzed, nuance and shadow of sleek muscle sculpture so apparent, everything about him…

Animalistic.

Raw.

Carnal…

In the dark, in the mist, he was coming toward her. His eyes smouldered with a sensuality like nothing she had ever seen before. What they did to her… her limbs were molten, as if he had somehow transmitted that sense of heat to her.

Nothing in the world seemed so important as reaching him.

A voice warned her there was something wrong with the vision.

But there was something so powerful about it as well. Light and fire seemed to radiate from him, sweeping across the space between them. Limb and muscles, flesh and bone, face and stance, were all so overwhelmingly compelling that she could do nothing but walk forward, yearning to reach him…

To touch him.

To be touched.

It was as if her very blood boiled, and the beat of his hunger pounded within her own mind.

"Yes, I'm coming!" she cried.

She wasn't crazy at all. This was what she was supposed to be doing—it was the most natural thing in the world.

And heedless of the rock, the terrain, the darkness, and the fog, she began to move forward, bidden by the light.

She didn't think at all.

She was called.

And so she came.

Chapter 12

It had gotten dark.

Doug had come in from the beach an hour earlier; it had been good, being out there with Drew and Suzette. Lena had appeared for a while as well, but she had been scratching her neck, and she hadn't seemed really comfortable.